


Paris Holds the Key (To Your Heart)

by FunnyLittleOwl



Series: home is wherever i'm with you [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character death due to old age and illness, Eiffel Tower, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Last story in the travel!series, Late night conversations on a plane, M/M, Paris (City), Romantic fluff on a floating house, Slow Dancing, Touristing, Travel!series, Victor's Backstory, Victor's POV, pet death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyLittleOwl/pseuds/FunnyLittleOwl
Summary: Victor himself was a passenger in this life, never taking the time to settle down and form roots since his heart was up in the skies. There was just so much to see, so much to explore - so many places he could run from his past and pretend it wasn’t there.He refused to fall in love with people, so he fell in love with places instead.With Yuuri, though, Victor didn’t have much of a choice.(In which the secrets of Victor's past are unraveled and the City of Light brightens up the way. The final part in the travel!series.)





	1. The Journey to Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Cabin crew, please take your seats for landing. This is the final story in this series. 
> 
> Thank you all for everything. It’s been a hell of a ride. Now I present to you, at last… Victor’s POV.

Once, when Victor had been a child, he gave his mother, Irina, a blue rose.

She had never stated a particular preference for that kind of flower, or any flower, really, but Victor had seen his Papa doing it many times before and decided it was worth a try. He was five years old and truly ecstatic that Mama had allowed him skate on the frozen pond with his classmates after dark.

Now that he thought about it, Victor wasn’t sure where he found a blue rose in the first place in the middle of the Russian winter, but that wasn’t the case. His point was: Victor would never forget the smile he put on his mother’s face that day. She looked at him, then down at the flower, and then the most beautiful thing happened to her: the skin around her eyes went wrinkly with the magnitude of her laughter.

Victor decided something very important on that cold, harsh day - he would strive his very best to do that again and again.

When Victor was six, there was a small competition in the rink among Yakov’s youngest skaters. His father Mikhail wasn’t so sure why they were encouraged to compete when they could hardly stand on the ice without flipping over, but Irina could barely hide her excitement to see her darling Viten'ka in sparkly costume, flailing his silver curls to the audience in the crowded rink.

Victor won his first ever competition that night and had dinner with grandmère at his favorite bakery to celebrate. Before she walked him home, though, she took his hand and explained to him why his achievement today had made his mother so happy - Irina, too, had been a skater like him.

“Really?” Victor asked wide-eyed and so filled with wonder. Of course she was, Victor couldn’t believe he had never suspected before. She was so beautiful and skaters were beautiful and Victor wanted to be beautiful just like his mother.

“The very best,” grandmére Alice replied proudly. “Nobody could look away from her.”

“Amazing,” Victor breathed. “But, grandmère, I don’t understand. If mama is a skater, why won’t she ever follow me into the ice herself?”

“Oh, Viten'ka. She would love to, but I’m afraid she can’t do that. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“There was an accident, chéri. She fell and broke her knee in many pieces. It ended her career years before her time. But she’s happy to live out her dream through you.”

The woman shook her head, as if reliving a particularly painful memory. “You won’t disappoint her, will you? You’ll listen to Yakov and train very hard?”

“I will. I’ll be the best skater there ever was, grandmére,” Victor stated firmly. “Just wait and see. Mama will be so proud of me.”

“She already is, my darling,” grandmère said with a small smile, squeezing his fingers, but then she frowned, like a troubling thought had just occurred to her. “I can’t deny that wouldn’t delight your old grandmére as well, but... just between us, will you promise me something?”

“What is it?” Victor asked curiously, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I know how much you love skating, my dear boy. But I’m afraid I can’t impose on you a dream that isn’t yours, so I need you to be sure - for both your Mama’s sake and mine. Just remember, Viten'ka: whatever you do in this life, just make sure it is your dream you’re following. Don’t let anyone else choose it for you. Is skating your dream?”

“Of course it is,” Victor replied without even blinking. “It’s the best feeling in the world.”

Grandmère nodded, apparently content with his answer. “You know, it’d be hypocritical of me not to ask. Me, of all people,” she laughed a little, but she didn’t seem to find anything funny about it. Victor wondered what the word “hypocritical” meant.

“Anyway,” she smiled again, and it almost looked normal this time. “What do you want to do now?”

“Can we buy Mama a bouquet of blue roses before we go home?” Victor asked determinedly.

“Oh, Viten'ka!” Grandmère exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “I was expecting you’d ask for that train set we saw on the shop earlier.”

“I don’t need the train,” Victor affirmed, having forgotten the toy entirely. “Just the flowers. I always give them to her and it makes her so happy. Can we please get some, grandmére?”

“Absolutely, my dear,” grandmère gave him a light tap on the shoulder like he was a big boy. She looked so pleased with him.

It was so simple in his mind, really. Victor loved skating, because when he won, it made his mother smile. And then, when he presented her with roses to account for his victory, she said he made her the happiest Mama in the world.

Therefore, Victor loved skating, because it was the best feeling in the world.

Victor wouldn’t understand there was a crucial difference there until much, much later in his life.

But then again, Victor always understood well most things weren’t meant to last forever.

 

* * *

 

 

When Victor was seven, he won another competition.

Grandmère had flown him to France for the summer and oversaw his training alongside Yakov, promising Victor his Mama and Papa would come to see him soon, see just how much he’s grown in last few months. He was ready now for much bigger things and couldn’t wait to show them his improvement.

But Mama and Papa never came to watch him compete.

At the side of the rink, he could see Yakov pacing furiously back and forth while yelling at someone on the telephone.

Beside him, sat grandma Alice with a paralyzed expression, a hand stuck to her unmoving chest. Her eyes were inexpressive as she stared at a spot on the ground for a very long time.

Victor, up until that point, was not aware that sadness could be expressed through many ways other than crying. So, he didn’t recognize the look on her face at first. He never, in a million years, would have imagined the news that followed suit.

Apparently, planes could fall.

The same planes that whisked him away to France, to America, then back to Russia like magical, unbelievable carpet rides. Planes. Ethereal, trusted aircrafts that carried people he loved through the air and brought them to him like a wish made upon a star.

Mama and Papa were on a plane that fell. They wouldn’t come to watch him receive the gold medal. They wouldn't come to see him at all.

They were dead.

Victor stormed his bedroom like a wounded bird that night, not able to keep himself standing up for long without falling apart.

He took the crown of blue roses he had made carefully with grandmère’s aid from his suitcase. He tore it apart with his trembling hands.

Mama and Papa were dead because of him.

Mama would never smile again.

He watched as the broken petals fell to the floor, like he had betrayed them somehow.

Victor then gathered up the pieces with his arms and cried, and cried, and cried.

 

* * *

 

 

When Victor was twenty-six, he had long learned to live with the tragedy the befell his family almost twenty years ago.

Victor lost many things that dreadful night, apart from his parents. His grandmère lost her sanity, and in his turn, Victor lost his dream, the only one that he ever had.

He kept on skating because it was all there was left.

After such a long streak of terrible decisions made on behalf of that phantom dream he kept on pursuing, Victor was only a half man himself. A horrible man whose only talent seemed to be letting down the people that he loved. His mother, his grandma.

 _I haven’t forgotten you_ , Victor thought distantly, picturing the woman’s face in his head as he was crowned the Grand Prix Final champion for the fifth consecutive time. _And I’m sorry. And I promise I’ll see you soon_.

But that too never came to pass, because on that very night, Victor got distracted.

It was an understatement to call it just a distraction, as much as Yakov wanted to prove him wrong whenever he now failed to land a jump - while thinking about that fateful encounter.

In Yuuri, Victor found himself a new dream.

Victor decided he would make Yuuri smile, the man who made him forget his plan. The man who lit up a spark inside.

The man who shared the warmth of his mother’s eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

  
The irony was: Victor actually really loved flying. There was something that could be said about the feeling of being suspended in the air, racing through the clouds, a mere spectator to the whole of creation looming below.

Victor himself was a passenger in this life, never taking the time to settle down and form roots since his heart was up in the skies. There was just so much to see, so much to explore - so many places he could run from his past and pretend it wasn’t there.

He refused to fall in love with people, so he fell in love with places instead.

With Yuuri, though, Victor didn’t have much of a choice.

For the first time, Victor was eager to feel new emotions flowing to him from someone else: he showed Yuuri the beauties of Barcelona and watched as the younger man experienced the thrills of Budapest for himself. He took him by the hand and gave him the world, but Yuuri only ever wanted Victor.

The concept was so foreign to Victor he could only cling harder to the source of his happiness and hope it didn’t eventually drive him away.

Victor knew he was clingy. Antoine had told him so.

Yuuri hadn’t even made up his mind completely about staying with him when Victor poured his heart out on a silver platter at a Hungarian pizzeria and said “ _I need you more, you see…  because without you, there’s nothing left_.”

He said: “ _This is it for me. I’ve stopped looking._ ”

He didn’t say: “ _Please don’t leave me now that you know what I’m really like._ ”

Yuuri gasped and looked at him like he was insane. Victor knew that face well: the face of a lover reaching their breaking point. He was ready for yet another rejection and abandonment when Yuuri blushed and measured his next words carefully.

He pleaded with a broken Victor: “ _Please. Please don’t underestimate how much I truly need you just because I’m no good with words. I never wanted anyone else and I know I never will. It’s just you. It would kill me to let you go now. You’re as stuck with me as I am with you_.”

 _Okay_ , Victor remembered saying. _Okay_ , Victor would gladly say for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

 

To this day, they were still making love to each other thinking, as they held on a bit harder: “ _I can’t believe you’re really mine._ ”

Thankfully, they were.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t always easy. They broke each other’s hearts countless times, not always unintentionally. Victor couldn’t understand sometimes what drove a person to hurt the one they loved, yet he did it again and again.

Victor left Yuuri alone in their honeymoon in Santorini. He looked at him in the eye in Cartagena and told him he didn’t know who he was anymore.

Yuuri threatened to throw his ring out on the Pacific Ocean.

They pushed and pulled and were overall just plain stupid, but they were stupid people who loved each other too much to let go. _No matter how hard it gets, promise me we won’t ever let go._

Another year went by, and with it, many lessons were learned.

Victor learned when to push: _this injury, Yuuri, we can surpass it together. It’s not the end of you, it’s just another thing I know you’re strong enough to overcome._

Yuuri learned to look at his knee and see a challenge, not a display of his failures. He pushed himself to the limit, somehow knowing exactly when to stop. _I want to become stronger... I can become stronger._

They pulled the other with them: _come with me and I’ll take you to it. Listen. Are you ready? On your mark. Get set. Go. But always, always, return._

By the end of the season, it was no wonder who stood on top of the World’s Championship podium for the fourth time once more.

Victor was an accomplished coach and choreographer of many incredible pupils.

No one could blame him for having a favorite, though.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor wondered if his grandmother would be proud of him for following his dream, if she were still around.

In those small moments, Victor’s smile turned sour. No matter what he did, life would never be perfect.

 

* * *

 

  
  
The awakening happened, as it often did, right after a trip.

It was like they knew they’d need to make tender memories ( _the calm before the storm_ ) to be able to get through the unthinkable together: Victor carried Yuuri through the threshold of their home because Yuuri had lost a bet in the airport.

Yuuri still kissed him fondly because that was what Yuuri did.

But whatever the bet was, where they traveled to, what they did, who they saw there - it all turned irrelevant the moment Victor received that phone call.

“Victor,” Yura said breathless on the speaker. “Victor, are you home yet?”

“We just got home,” Victor smiled. “How’s my fav…”

“Can you two please come over now?” Yura interrupted in the same desperate tone.

As much as the young blond’s manners had improved throughout the years, it still wasn’t often that Yuri said please. Victor’s blood suddenly recoiled.

“It's Makkachin. I think... I think we need to take him to the vet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Victor couldn’t tell you what happened next, even if you kindly pressed. He didn’t remember much of it himself. There was sweating, Yuuri driving over the speed limit, countless exams, meaningless words of comfort. He remembers brushing his best friend’s fur with trembling fingers.

Victor was allowed to take Makkachin home for the night. There wasn’t much they could do anymore but wait.

 _Makkachin has lived a long, fulfilling life_ , he listened as the usual doctor spoke to Yuuri. _He’s an old fella. A fighter, if I may say so. Make sure he’s resting when it happens, will you? But most importantly, look after_ him _. And call me if you anything. Anything at all._

Yuuri did take them all home - Yura insisted in staying with them for the night, in case Victor tried anything “funny”, Victor overheard him saying.

That moment, Victor realized he hadn’t spoken a word ever since arriving at Yuri’s house earlier. He sat on the bedroom’s floor with his back to the nightstand and couldn’t find it in him to join his dear friend who was suffering in the living room’s couch all by himself.

Not for the first time, Victor considered himself to be the worst person in the world. The most awful, certainly the biggest coward. Makkachin wouldn’t be the first to be let down this way.

It was just like him to let down the people he loved when they needed him the most. But Victor just… froze. He didn’t cry, he didn’t yell at the skies, he didn’t move, he didn’t even blink. He just sat there and pretended nothing was happening. This can’t be happening.

_Makka, my baby. It’s still too soon. Please, don’t leave me too._

With great difficulty, Victor stood up.

It was like the world was moving in slow motion. It took him years to turn the doorknob open, a decade until he closed it behind him. A thousand years had passed until he reached the kitchen and rested his arms on the counter, trying uselessly to ground himself. His body was so, so heavy. His heart weighed about a million pounds.

That was when he heard his voice. Yuuri.

Yuuri was walking carefully around the living room, where Victor couldn’t see him. Victor edged to the corner of the room and spotted his husband carrying yet another blanket to the couch where Makkachin was lying.

“Hey, Makka,” he said softly, “Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

Makkachin didn’t react. “Good boy,” Yuuri praised, while sitting next to him and tucking him in next to his leg. Victor felt like the scene was happening to somebody else. Somebody else whose friend wasn’t dying in front of him and he could only watch in response.

“Do you remember the day I met your papa?” Yuuri asked, petting his head with featherlight touches. “Or that I remember meeting him, at least. You were the first thing that I saw. You reminded me so much of my own dog, you know. You never knew your little brother, Vicchan. I think… I think you would have liked him,” Yuuri trailed off, distant.

There was silence. Victor could feel his own heartbeat going miles a second.

“You’re so real to me, Makka, in a way that I never dreamed you would be. I remember when Victor got you. I still have all the magazines, you know? You were so, so tiny. Makka, I hope you know… you’re such a good dog. The very best. Thank you for keeping Victor company and giving him love before I ever could.”

Yuuri’s smile slowly faded.

“Remember when you ate those buns and got sick in Hasetsu all those years ago? You scared him.”

Yuuri stopped when Makka let out a small whine and he cringed in sympathy.

“Oh, Makka, you’re gonna scare him a lot more now,” Yuuri sighed.

“Be strong for papa, will you? He may look like he has all the answers, but really, he… can’t be strong just on his own.”

Yuuri watched the dog for a while longer, while Makka’s chest struggled to take deep breaths since the early evening. 

“I love you, puppy.” Yuuri kissed the top of his head. “Oh... are you tired now? Do you want to sleep? It’s okay, papa will take care of you. He’ll be right here. You know he won’t ever leave you alone.”

Yuuri whispered something on the dog’s ear that sounded like the Japanese word for “goodbye.” He got up and fixed the blanket around his body once again.

Victor’s feet, by their own account, led him to the side of the couch, where he watched Yuuri at it with detached interest. His husband passed by him and squeezed his hand firmly before retreating to the bedroom, without saying anything.

What could he say, really? Yuuri knew him so well. He knew when to give him time. This was one of those moments. Victor loved him all the more for it.

Victor lied down on the couch, wrapping a lighter blanket around him and tucking Makkachin’s upper body next to his chest.

He spoke platitudes.This wasn’t the time and the place for grand declarations. He only hoped he conveyed them enough for those almost two decades. He told him whispered stories in their common language, told him the story of his upcoming book, the adventures that he and Yuuri had been up to in their trip.

Victor stayed up until morning, long after Makkachin had gone to sleep, his breath steadier than it had been all night. Victor held his paw when it happened.

 

_In. Out._

_In. Out._

_In._

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took him a week to gather his thoughts and start acting like a variant of himself again. Victor spent that time contemplating his past and what he wanted to do about his future, now that he chose to neglect neither anymore.

It was what Makka would have wanted for him.

They were both in bed, Yuuri absent-mindedly trailing his fingers through Victor’s (frankly thinning) hair while they watched a Russian soap opera without subtitles - Yuuri didn’t need them anymore. Victor was so proud. Everything Yuuri did filled him with pride.

It was time to start deserving the same from the love of his life.

“Yuuri, we need to go to France.”

Victor blurted out suddenly and just let it hang in the air.

“Okay,” Yuuri said slowly, “That is... a logical progression of events.”  
  
“My grandmère Alice, Yuuri. She’s still alive.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri didn’t ask many questions. He simply took a look at Victor and rushed to grab his laptop and start browsing for plane tickets to Paris.

They were on a plane within ten days, days of which Victor still refused to elaborate the meaning of the trip, but Yuuri got the idea. Victor mentioned his grandmother enough for Yuuri to understand the weight behind his words. For all Yuuri knew, his grandma had been dead for years.

 _That’s where you’re wrong, solnyshko_ , Victor thought bitterly. _She’s just been dead to me. Because I am an awful, awful man._

“Hey,” Yuuri tried to get his attention, squeezing his hand lightly on the armrest between their seats. “They’ve started to serve dinner. Would you rather have pasta or chicken?”

“I think I’m fine with neither.”

“Well, I’ll get both so I can eat yours too. One of them shouldn’t taste like actual garbage,” Yuuri complained, trying to make light of the situation. Victor smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. Yuuri’s smile faltered as well and he slumped on his chair a bit.

They ate in silence (Yuuri ate, Victor pretended to nibble on some nuts) as Yuuri watched the onboard entertainment in the small television in front of him. Victor pretended to watch it, too, not that he was very good at it. He didn’t have his earphones on.

Yuuri, on his part, seemed to be getting restless beside him. Victor knew that look, it was his husband’s trademarked look of “I’m thinking too hard on something and I won’t stop until I find a solution.” Victor let him do his thing in peace.

Yuuri eventually turned his body to the window and pressed his forehead to the cold glass there for a while. It was dark on the plane before Yuuri ever moved again.

“Stargazing in France must be so romantic,” he eventually whispered, almost like an afterthought.

Oh, Yuuri.

Victor smiled, despite of the ever-increasing hole digging its way through his heart. “It is,” he replied, distant. Antoine had taken him on an impromptu trip to Paris that summer when he was 16. They walked along the Seine and watched the sun set on a deserted bridge at the quiet side of town. That was… before. “I’m afraid we won’t have much time to do it this time around, though. I promise you we’ll be back again soon.”

Yuuri watched him closely, then nodded softly.

Sometimes Victor wondered what thoughts went through his husband’s mind. Sometimes he wished they lived inside the same head, so no distance could ever come between them. So Victor wouldn’t ever have to explain this...

Every second, the clock ticked up until the point of no return. Victor wasn’t ready. Would Yuuri judge him?

Worse: would Yuuri think the same would happen to him, under the same circumstances? Because if he did, Victor would fall apart. Did Yuuri even understand how much Victor loved him? How he had saved him?

How he would _break_ without him?

“It’s okay,” Yuuri said nonchalantly, glancing again at the darkness outside. “I suppose we can do it here, too.”

Victor gave him a questioning face.

“Lay your chair back.” Yuuri said, then smiled wickedly.

 _Oh_. That smile. That smile _wrecked_ him.

Victor did as he was told, and then they were both laying down on their seats, covered by the same cotton blue blanket, as the rest of the flight slept on.

Like that, it was easy to believe they were the only people on the universe. The only ones who mattered, at least. Sometimes, Victor wondered about himself, too.

( _“Too much?” “It’s a bit too much.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. You know it’s the same for me.”_ )

“Look outside the window,” Yuuri pointed, taking Victor’s hand with his own under the blanket. “The stars look so much closer from here, even though they’re still millions of miles away. I suppose that’s the closest we’ll ever get to them, though. Unless we switch careers and become astronauts, of course.”

“Would you like that?” Victor asked, grounding himself on the realness of Yuuri’s thumb slowly caressing his palm.

“Becoming an astronaut? Nah,” Yuuri wrinkled his nose. “They have to eat out of pills and drink serum for nutrients and stuff. That’s honestly a bit depressing.”

“I guess you’re right,” Victor replied, in good-hearted mockery. “Not worth the price of witnessing the death of a supernova live at all.”

“And space is so big,” Yuuri continued, paying him no mind, “It actually scares me a lot, you know. There’s nothing in sight for billions of light-years, and then we’re out here on this tiny blue planet, just bursting with life. Maybe stars only look pretty on this side of the spectrum.”

“Wow,” Victor whistled, eyeing him carefully. “I thought you said stargazing was romantic to you.”

Yuuri actually blushed, the beautiful man. “It is!” He was fast to make amends. "It’s just… it’s so interesting, you know? ‘No edge’ and all that. It makes you think you’re lucky to even be here. The stars are beautiful. I’m glad we’re able to appreciate them.”

“Well, I’m glad you were born on my corner of the universe, then.”

“I… me, too.” Yuuri’s blush grew redder. “You know you don’t have to keep saying these things. We’ve been married for a while now.”

“Nonsense,” Victor mouthed, entirely truthful. He snuggled closer to the smaller man’s frame until his head was pillowed on his husband’s shoulder. Suddenly Victor didn’t feel so awful anymore.

Yuuri then offered him one of his earbuds, nudging his arm lightly. “Here, you like this one. Let’s listen to it together.”

When Victor saw the title on the screen, though, he honestly considered refusing him. But he didn’t, not when Yuuri looked so peaceful and was being so considerate for trying to lighten up Victor in any way that he could. Victor really did love this song.

It was his grandmère’s favorite.

Victor accepted the earbud and felt a familiar wave of longing wash over him in an instant, to Yuuri’s utter oblivion. _[La Vie En Rose.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPCxm9kwO98)_

_Still as lovely as ever._

Victor couldn’t blame Yuuri for his mood, so he hid his sigh as best as he could. He tried to change the topic of conversation.

“So, Yuuri,” Victor said, “Do you have a favorite constellation?”

“I do, actually,” Yuuri smiled, and Victor could feel it on his hair. “I think it’s called… Lyra? In Japan, there is a festival that celebrates one of its stars. Westerners call it Vega, but we know it as Tanabata - that’s what the festival is called as well. It’s that bright blue-white star over there, do you see it?”

Victor nodded, impressed by the sight of it. He guessed he never really paid that close attention to the night sky before.

“In the story, there is a celestial princess called Orihime who falls in love with a mortal. But as these legends go, naturally it doesn’t end well for them. Long story short, the princess and the human are forbidden from seeing each other again, and both lovers are placed in the sky by the gods, where they are kept apart by the Celestial River,” Yuuri’s finger traced the lit-up path on the small window.

“You mean the Milky Way?” Victor’s eyebrow raised lightly.

“Yes, also known as the Milky Way galaxy,” Yuuri laughed. “Isn’t it interesting? I’ve always thought it romantic of sorts. In the end, they do get to spend one night per year together, and that’s the night we celebrate in the festival. During Tanabata, they say a pile of celestial magpies sympathize with the lovers and form a bridge over the river so that they can meet. It only lasts for that single night, though.”

Victor looked at the two stars separated by the “Celestial River” and felt a shudder run through his entire body. He didn’t like to imagine what that even felt like. It wasn’t romantic to him, it was just… sad. To know love and not to have. For all of eternity, only one night per year. Then back to loneliness in the dark, forever and ever.

“When it rains during the festival, they say it was because they couldn’t make the dangerous trip, and the raindrops are Orihime’s tears because Hikoboshi could not meet her.”

“I don’t think I like this festival, Yuuri,” Victor said in a low voice. “It would only bring me down, especially if it rained.”

“It’s okay, Victor, it’s only a story,” Yuuri tried to reassure him. “The best part about Tanabata is that we get to write down wishes and hang them on bamboo trees, and hope they’ll come to pass. I used to make the same wish every year.”

“Really?” Victor’s eyes widened at this newfound knowledge about Yuuri. “And did it ever come true?”

Yuuri gently propped Victor’s chin up and kissed him softly on the lips. “It… actually did. I can’t really complain.”

“I suppose I should say thanks to Orihime, then,” Victor pondered, kissing his lower lip in return.

“Well, she’s right there, why don’t you just tell her now?” Yuuri joked, motioning to the star again.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor censured, whining loudly, “Please don’t make me talk to the sad princess. I’ll get incredibly nervous, and you know I’m no good when people are crying.”

“Vitya, you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not kidding. I’ll thank her when I’m ready. Perhaps when we’re back in Japan and I get to make my own wish at the festival.”

“And what will your wish be?”

“I can’t really tell, can I? Otherwise it won’t come true, like yours did.”

“True,” Yuuri noted. “Then by all means, keep your wish to yourself. You know I want all your dreams to come true, don’t you? Especially if they’re something within my reach.” Yuuri brushed his lips over Victor’s forehead as he spoke. “Then you can just rest assured knowing I don’t need any Tanabata in the sky to make them happen.”

“Now, who’s being romantic, _solnyshko_?”

“What?” Yuuri said, flustered. “I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

Victor kissed him once more, for longer this time. Thankfully, there weren’t any flight attendants around to reprimand him. They tended to sense it when Victor started to get enthusiastic and would politely ask them stop, by poking his shoulder. Everyone was asleep, though, so Victor only kissed him harder.

_I love you, Yuuri. You’re the kindest person I know._

_You deserve to know the worst that lives in me._

Victor did stop eventually, and so did the music, and they were left in the eerie silence of the sleepy plane.

“You remember our game, don’t you?” Victor asked, hesitantly.

“Of course, Vitya,” Yuuri frowned. “Just because we haven’t needed to play it for a while, it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten it.”

“Then I’ll cross my heart and tell you something you can’t judge.”

Victor closed his eyes. Here goes nothing.

“I haven’t told you the full story about my grandmother’s heart attack.”

Victor opened his eyes again and found brown eyes encouraging him to keep going.

“I… I imagined so, love. Do you want to talk about it now?”

“Makkachin was the last gift grandmère gave me before we lost her to Alzheimer’s, many years ago. That was long after my parents’ death, but before the… accident in Marseille.”

“You told me about it in Cartagena. It was because of Antoine, when you were young.”

“Antoine cheated on me, and I was the one who freaked out and scared her. It was me, Yuuri. I caused the attack, and then she never recovered from it… but she didn’t die then. The disease only got worse and I didn’t know how to deal with it. She stopped remembering things altogether and I… I sent her away. I dropped her some place in Marseille and I never looked back. I’m ashamed, _solnyshko_ , so ashamed. I’ve left her alone for years.”

“Victor…”

“How can I look her in the eye? Even if she doesn’t know who I am, how do I live with this guilt, Yuuri?”

Victor turned away from Yuuri in the seat, not bearing to look at him anymore, even if he wasn’t allowed to judge him by the nature of their game.

“I’m sure you did the best you could under those circumstances, love. You were only a child then.”

“I’m not a child anymore. She must be so old now, so alone. She has no one left, Yuuri, only me. And I’ve let her down. I had no right to forget her. Instead, I cowered away. I was so afraid of her disease, of our genetics, I decided to become a polyglot, so my chances of ever developing it too are much reduced. I’ve had brain scans, I met doctors who have calmed me down over the years, but I did nothing to help her all this time. I did nothing to make her comfortable, I did nothing to offer her company. I just assumed they were treating her well, with all that I was paying her clinic. I could have gone see her so many times… I could have sent someone, I could have sent Antoine, she still loved him despite of everything… I could have kept her close to me in Saint Petersburg. But no. I was selfish. And now I’m paying the price. Makkachin is dead and I _need_ to know if she’s okay.”

“It’s not too late, Vitya. You’re going there now. You’ll be there for her now. Even if she doesn’t remember you, which must be painful, still, you’re trying your best. Yes, you haven’t seen her in years, but you’ve been providing for her, making sure she’s taken care of. You’re not a horrible person, my love, you’re only human. And you’ve already lost so much. Of course you’re scared. Of course you think you’re screwing up. But I don’t think that about you. And I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me all this. It mustn’t be easy for you, I can’t even imagine it.”

“How long have we known each other now?” Victor asked, raising his voice. “And I’m only telling you in a plane heading to France because I had no other choice? I’m no hero, Yuuri, I don’t deserve your praise, especially not your pride. I can only hope you can forgive me for this. For not trusting you sooner... for not doing something about this sooner. You both deserved better than me.”

“Victor, stop,” Yuuri tried to get him to lower his voice, “I don’t think of you any less because of this. I wished upon a star to finally get to know you for most of my life. I never wanted the national hero, the celebrity, I just wanted you, in any way I could get. You’re here now and you’re not perfect, Victor, I know that better than anyone. But you’re mine and I’ll take all of you, the good and the bad. We’ll fix this together. I might not always agree with you or your choices, but I’ll always be by your side. Do you understand?”

Victor went silent for a while, lowering his gaze to the airplane’s floor. Yuuri’s hand tightened around his.

“Vitya, please,” Yuuri pleaded. “Look at me. Do you understand?”

Victor sighed, before finally conceding, pressing a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s temple. “Grandmère Alice was the one who had always encouraged me to follow my dreams, no matter how far-fetched they might seem.” He remembered the words and smiled to himself. “She said... I shouldn’t make the same mistakes she had. I guess I’ll never know what those mistakes were and I only have myself to blame for that. But I know well what paths have led me here… and they were full of both dreams and mistakes. I suppose I can’t regret everything, when it was one of those mistakes that has led me to you. So yes, I understand, Yuuri. Because you’re the dream I’m fighting for now. Thank you for everything so far. I promise you I will never take your love for granted.”

“It’s okay, Vitya,” Yuuri rubbed comforting circles on his palm. “I’d never doubt that.”

“You used to,” Victor trailed off, remembering a particularly painful memory from not so long ago.

“Well, I don’t. Not anymore. We’re a package deal, you know. Your problems are my problems, too. Please don’t worry about this for even a second longer. We’ll deal with all this together as it comes. Now let’s go and meet your grandmother. One step at a time.”

“One step at a time,” Victor repeated distantly, letting off a breath of relief for the first time that night.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” a French voice suddenly echoed through the aircraft, breaking their delicate bubble with a resounding pop.

“We have just been cleared to land at the Charles de Gaulle airport. Please make sure your seat belt is securely fastened. The flight attendants will be passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.”

 

Victor’s ears only heard static.

 

The man might as well have spoken a truly foreign language.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is anyone still there
> 
> I know, it’s been a while. I’ve actually started this story many months ago, but I just couldn’t find it in me to finish it. Truth is, I’ve been struggling with my writing a lot (among many other things) lately. I hope you still enjoy this final part, even if it’s not everything I wanted it to be when I planned this out.
> 
> I’m sorry for Makkachin. I really am. I cry everytime I read that scene, I’m so emotional these days. But for the first time in forever, I didn’t finish this story before posting it. I’m going to finish it, don’t worry. There’s still a lot to tell. We gotta meet the grandma, y’all.
> 
> But I would love to hear your thoughts if you really enjoy this series, it would seriously make my day. I kinda lost faith in my storytelling abilities (and my ability to write proper sentences in English), so it would mean a lot if you encouraged me to keep going anyway.
> 
> Thank you all for everything. Hope you enjoyed Victor’s POV thus far, it’s a bit different than Yuuri’s (for intentional reasons). I love that boy so much.
> 
> If you wanna check my progress writing chapter 2 on twitter and tumblr, I’m funnylittleowl there as well. See on soon!


	2. City of (Past) Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, there was Yuuri. 
> 
> Yuuri and the narrow alleys from his GPS. Yuuri and his smile that shone a 1,000 watts lighter than the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. Yuuri’s Eros, Yuuri’s Agape. Yuuri’s Victor. Victor wondered what Yuuri’s Paris would turn out to be.

 

This wasn’t how Victor envisioned their first trip to Paris would go.

In Victor’s vision, Yuuri wore gold.

His skin was gold and so were his lips (his clothes, his feet), and when he walked, he left a mark of golden footprints on his trail that faded quickly along the Champs-Elysees. Victor could only follow the man close behind, blessed to even catch those golden eyes every once in awhile.

Victor didn’t care what he himself wore, as long as he blended quietly into the Parisian scenery. Quite like the prodigal son who never dared to return _(but he did, didn’t he? That was the whole point.)_ As long as they hushed, though, no one would ever need to know. As it happened with many things in life, he was content to see the world through Yuuri’s eyes and that alone was enough.

Yuuri’s eyes, though, looked thoroughly confused at the moment.

“Well, according to Google Maps, our hotel was supposed to be right… here.” Yuuri turned around, searching for some kind of sign. “But there’s only this _pâtisserie_.”

“Hm…”

“Well, what do you think we should do?”

“Oh,” Victor’s mind was only partially following the conversation, “Have you checked the address again? I’m sorry you had to book it all for yourself, _solnyshko_.”

“I didn’t realize the streets would be so confusing here,” Yuuri blushed in embarrassment, holding onto his suitcase a bit harder. “I should’ve paid more attention. I’m… I’m not sure we’re in the right place at all. I’m sorry, Victor.”

“It’s alright.”

“And it’s getting dark,” Yuuri noticed, his voice cracking for a second. “Is it really safe to be out in the streets after dark? We were just in the main avenue, it shouldn’t be more than a ten-minute walk from here. I suppose I can get us back, I think maybe I…”

“Yuuri,” Victor called, sternly. “I said, it’s alright. Don’t worry. I know this city like the back of my hand. Let’s see.”

Victor finally inspected his surroundings, and it felt like emerging after being left underwater for too long. He knew this city.

Of course he knew the monument they just walked by.

The _Arc de Triomphe_ was a work commissioned by Napoleon himself and it was one of Paris’ most famous views.

Victor knew that, deep down on his mind.  In a more conscious level, he just knew he hated to drive there around noon. The closest metro station was just nearby.

Yuuri… Yuuri didn’t know that.

Yuuri probably wanted to take a photo as they walked by. He didn’t.

This was Yuuri’s first time in Paris for anything other than a competition.

And that wasn’t all. Victor knew why Yuuri was acting fidgety. He felt anxious for trying to take control over what was Victor’s usual area of expertise.

Victor knew he was screwing up. He knew. So why couldn’t he stop?

“Victor,” Yuuri called. He felt like Yuuri had been doing that for a while. Victor finally looked up. “Our reservation can still be cancelled without paying for the whole penalty. If you don’t mind… I think I just found a good hotel by the end of this street. We’re just staying in the city for the night anyway, aren’t we?”

Victor stopped paying attention to him halfway through. A poodle just walked past them, but there was no one around who seemed to own it. He had a leash on. He was brown and he looked so much like…

“Let’s go, love,” Yuuri said, touching his shoulder. His eyes were kind but sorrowful. Infinitely sorrowful.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri said he was going to take a shower and then disappeared behind the marble door. It must have been at least an hour ago.

Victor’s phone was out of battery, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he scrambled around the channels in the television, half-heartedly looking for something decent to watch.

“ _Et maintenant, les prévisions météo_ ,” said the brunette lady with the crooked smile on the news channel.

 _Oh, you’re still here, Eva,_ thought Victor remotely. She said there was a 60% chance of raining during the night, and a 100% chance of the world ending until nine in the morning.

That was the time their train to Marseille was scheduled to depart.

Before they left, Victor sent a message to the clinic to let him know he’d be coming. Among other things, they replied with: “We’ll let her know.”

What exactly they would let her know… that was still a mystery to him. Would they let her know he was sorry? That he loved her still? That was all he really wanted his grandmother to know.

Or was that just protocol? From all that he gathered, Alice hadn’t lived a lucid day in years.

That struck him as humorous somehow. _Alice in Wonderland,_ was what Mama used to call her. Before, she had always been a daydreamer, constantly drawing and writing in her secret journal.

Victor wondered if his grandmother was ever truly happy in her melancholic life. He knew that her marriage with his Russian grandfather had been one out of pure convenience, arranged by her parents to get her out of the Parisian streets.

Perhaps the only place she had been truly happy was, indeed, right here where he stood. France, her homeland. Victor’s second home. Or third, after Hasetsu now.

He could relate to that. For a soul that longed for the world, a life stuck in cold, old Russia would never be enough.

Victor realized he could get up and admire the view he had been missing for a while, but it’d take too much effort to stand up from the spot he made for himself in the bed.

 He melted against the sheets and dozed off for a minute. When he opened his eyes again, he was met with a freshly washed Yuuri lying on top of him, staring at him as you’d do to an animal at the zoo.

“Hello,” Yuuri said, right to his face.

_Victor, the endangered species._

“You have bags under your eyes,” his husband noted, stroking them softly with his hands.

“It’s the old age,” Victor replied, sighing.

“It really isn’t,” Yuuri countered patiently. “But I must confess, maturity suits you. You know, you look even more striking now than you did when I met you.”

“I’d say the same about you, but then I realized you’re not even thirty yet... kiddo.”

“Details,” Yuuri smiled. “But then what is it, Vitya, thirty-three this year?”

“Stop,” Victor laughed meekly.

“Well, I’ve always liked older guys.” Yuuri crunched up his nose. “This _one_ guy, anyway.”

“Glad to hear.”

Eva had long since stopped talking on the TV, and Victor didn’t recognize anyone else hosting the news. Perhaps that was what happened when you’ve been away for too long. People started changing on the TV.

Dark bags started swelling under your eyes.

Your sick grandma started to forget all about you.

“I was actually doing a bit of research in the bathroom,” Yuuri said hesitantly. “I know how you feel about hotel food, so I thought we might go out to a restaurant. I’ve already picked the place and everything. It’s close nearby.”

“So proactive,” Victor smiled sweetly. Despite it all, he was proud of how far Yuuri had come.

“And I thought we might do some sightseeing after it,” Yuuri continued, tripping over his words as he spoke too fast, “I’ve already downloaded the maps and memorized the streets. You don’t have to do anything! We’ll be back before you know it.”

“We don’t need to rush it, _solnyshko_ ,” Victor was quick to reply, not being entirely honest with himself. It was Yuuri’s first real time in Paris, after all. Victor really didn’t feel like going out - he was still wearing the same clothes from the plane and was too tired for his own good - but for Yuuri, he would.

“Okay,” Yuuri said, relieved. He kissed the tip of Victor’s nose. “I’ll be your guide for this evening.”

The words echoed back to Victor, reminding him of happier moments from years ago.

_("So, Yuuri," Victor singsonged with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Starting today, I am your guide. You can count on my remarkable sense of direction to distract you from all your worries and ensure you have a great time before it all culminates at the Grand Prix Finals' podium.")_

That was how it all started. It was only fair he let Yuuri lead the way if he was feeling so inclined.

And Yuuri wasn’t anything if not determined.

 

* * *

 

 

Naturally, Yuuri chose the scenic route. It was refreshing for Victor’s eyes to see such old scenery suddenly turn anew, right in front of him. He had been in each of these places countless times in the past - every experience resoundingly different from the last, depending on his choice of companion.

Well, there was grandmère’s Paris, the one of his childhood.

The Paris that filled him with the inexplicable wonder of a child’s memories: the beautiful stained glasses glittering over Notre Dame Cathedral, the soft lullabies echoing in the streets by dexterous, disheveled musicians. Mama’s hair flowing in the win and her funny, colorful sunglasses. Ice creams and boyhood. Victor’s second home.

There was Antoine’s Paris, the one Victor thought he finally understood why it was called The City of Love.

That Paris was a farce, just as much as the filthy garbage piling up at the banks of the Seine. His Paris promised and deceived, delivered and took it back, like an unfulfilled desire, a foolish visit to the Moulin Rouge. It was rough around the edges, sharp teeth and nails, Eros at its finest. It was also over all the sooner for it.

There was Chris’ Paris. Most of it, Victor didn’t actually remember.

That Paris, though, was the source of most of Victor’s newfound appreciation of the city. Chris was an anchor he could lean on, a friend Victor would forever be grateful for. He pulled Victor back from the abyss and then immediately began to defile him. They were young - but not too young to be entirely reckless - and they drank and partied, partied and drank, rinse, repeat. There were more men than he could count, absolutely zero regrets, maybe a little more than a few drugs, and Paris never shone so brightly. Victor forgot about Antoine. Victor forgot about many things after that experience.

Then, there was Victor’s own Paris.

The one Victor didn’t dare speak of. The one he had walked alone throughout all those years. The cold, harsh wind of the Parisian winter. Victor’s Paris reflected how he felt inside. It was decadent, much like Victor himself, but to some people that order of dishevel still held some appeal. Some charm. Victor snickered just thinking about it. _A beautiful mess,_ Chris once had said.

A beautiful mess was a mess nonetheless.

Now, there was Yuuri.

Yuuri and the narrow alleys from his GPS. Yuuri and his smile that shone a 1,000 watts lighter than the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. Yuuri’s Eros, Yuuri’s Agape. Yuuri’s Victor. Victor wondered what Yuuri’s Paris would turn out to be.

They had finally reached it, by the way, the infamous view. The self-proclaimed most romantic place in the world. It was funny, because Victor didn’t actually hate the place: it was magnificent, a blessing of architecture and art, a global patrimony. I

It’s just that... the last time he was here, a few years ago, Victor’s last impression of the place had been one of hatred.

It was during one of those trips made out of self-pity and a desire to brood over one’s own misery. Well, Victor wasn’t anything if a drama queen, he couldn’t ever deny that. But the tower was too crowded, the grass too dirty, Victor was sick with the flu and even the pigeons’ cluttered flight over the nearby buildings seemed to deepen his rage.

He could have gone visit grandmère then. He didn’t.

Yuuri squeezed his hand.

“Tell me about her,” he asked softly, while carefully minding the view. The flocks of tourists weren’t so bad today, thanks to the off-season. They could even sit down if they wanted to, so they did.

Victor took a deep breath and pondered where to begin. Yuuri’s Paris so far consisted of things he couldn’t bring himself to forget. Broken promises, empty words. Victor, of course, hated himself for it.

Yuuri laid back again, like he did on the airplane, but this time the stars were above, not beside him. It didn’t seem fitting, when they were one and the same.

“My mom took so much after her,” Victor at last decided on his words. “Blonde, just like me. The only Russian traits in my genes are my father’s eyes, I think. Hers are a rich brown. I always thought they were very charming.”

“She must be beautiful, then,” Yuuri said, amazed. “Did she speak Russian before marrying your grandfather?”  

“Not really, no,” Victor shook his head, smiling. “They mostly spoke French to each other at first, having met here and all. But once mama was born in St. Petersburg, grandmère  became fluent. She had a funny accent in Russian, though.”

“Just like mine, I suppose,” Yuuri said, self-deprecating. He had his gaze up to the sky and his veiled face looked beautiful under the city lights.

“No, hers was funnier,” Victor joked half-heartedly. “She never really liked Russia, though. She missed her family too much, especially her friends, she said. Grandmère Alice was really popular in the Parisian circles, and that was hot gossip back home in Marseille. Her father didn’t approve of it. There was a friend of hers he actually hated the most, a painter named Damien. AKA, Antoine’s grandfather.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really. That was why he and I became close in the first place, because grandmère wished desperately to be on speaking terms with Damien again after grandfather passed. They had been near inseparable before her moving. She always spoke fondly about their adventures ‘painting this city red’, as she used to put it herself. Alice sacrificed a lot of things for the sake of her marriage. I wonder if she regrets it all now.”

“She doesn’t regret _you_ , that’s for sure,” Yuuri interrupted. “Nor your mother. Of all things, that’s the one you’re really not responsible for, Vitya. She made her own choice, despite of her family’s expectations.”

“I know,” Victor sighed. “I just wish I could talk to her about it. Maybe then I could understand her better. I was too young when it all happened, and then she was never the same. When Mama died... grandmère’s heart went with her. It was like she didn’t care about me anymore. I wasn’t what she wanted, and Russia was only holding her back. My training, then my career. All that she longed for was to be back home. I took that from her for a while. But then… I took her back to Marseille. But it was too late. Damien was gone too, just like grandfather, and all there was left for both her and me was Antoine.”

“I remember you said she liked Antoine because he reminded her of someone,” Yuuri said distantly. “I think… I think I finally understand why.”

Yuuri’s eyes finally reached his again.

Victor was then hit with a sudden realization of how much this impossible man had grown in the last few years.

While Antoine had been a meteor in his life and Chris a temporary anchor, Yuuri had grown to be so much more. 

His best friend, lover and family, all wrapped up in one person. Victor _still_ couldn’t believe his luck. There was no denying Yuuri was his one and only.

His cornerstone.

Victor said nothing, though, and turned to lay down next to him in the grass.

They watched the rising starlights together for a while and how they sprinkled behind the tower like their very own spectacle of dusk.

Victor thought in that moment about how stars were mirrors of the past, how their light took millions of years to reach this world. He knew, then, that this moment would be imprinted in some star’s vision whenever they looked down upon us, eons of light years away.

His and Yuuri’s story would go on, and that thought finally calmed his mind.

“You should call him, you know,” Yuuri’s soft voice brought him back from space.

“Who?”

“Antoine.”

“But you hate him,” Victor frowned, confused.

“I don’t _hate_ him. I merely hold an extreme dislike for the guy,” Yuuri corrected, fixing his glasses, ever the methodical. “But he’s part of this story as much as you are. He should know, don’t you think?”

Victor gave him his most genuine smile in weeks. “Well, yes, _solnyshko_. You’re right, of course.”

_My wonderful, wonderful man._

Victor understood in that moment.

Yuuri’s Paris.

Make no mistake, Yuuri most surely _hated_ Victor’s ex-lover, in a way he couldn’t really help. That, Victor knew. Especially knowing all the hurt that he had caused Victor. Even more so because a part of him still felt like there was a resemblance between them in Victor’s mind, because of their shared physical traits.

It was _by virtue_ of all those things that Victor knew... Yuuri’s Paris was to be the most beautiful of all.

Yuuri’s Paris was warm. Reciprocal. Grounding.

It was one of understanding and compassion. A place of second chances. Almost like… a reckoning.

Victor at the Eiffel Tower hated everything years ago. Right now, he was here again, and he just felt at peace. And loved.

_Renewed._

“I think it’s time now,” Yuuri whispered, taking Victor’s hand firmly and planting it over his chest. He motioned with his head to point at something ahead of them. “They’re gonna turn it on.”

“Turn what on now?” Victor asked, completely lost.

“The Tower.”

 _Oh, right._ The Tower.

And what a sight that was. _Like Budapest all over again_ , Victor thought amazed.

The Eiffel Tower was brought to life with countless sparkles twinkling from from base to top, provoking a collective awe from every single person there in miles.

And Victor wasn’t sullen about it. He thought it was wonderful that so many people could witness that revelation with them -  that being alone in the universe was quite a boring notion, after all.

“You know, Yuuri, being here with you,” Victor turned to his side to face him, while everyone’s eyes were turned the other way. “It reminds me of something my mother used to tell me. How you feel at your worst is not how you’re always going to feel.”

Yuuri huffed, then smiled mischievously. “The world has a way of showing us our elders are frequently right. It’s sneaky, almost _cyclic_ like that.”

“I don’t exactly agree,” Victor said, moving closer. “The world is what it is, but also what you bring to it. And who you share it with.”

The Eiffel Tower brightened up the skies along the stars.

It was kinda beautiful.

 

* * *

 

 

The train ride to Marseille was a silent one.

But as the landscape changed and they gradually approached the French shore, Victor started to become more agitated. He dropped three small packages of sugar on his tea, when usually he had, well, none. He fidgeted with his ticket, tearing it to geometric pieces after it had been stamped by a large man with a moustache while breakfast was served.

Yuuri watched him carefully on the side, while pretending to be engrossed with a Russian book.

Victor was the first to stand up when the conductor announced they’d be arriving shortly. Now that he was here, he didn’t want to waste any time.

He had been at the _maison de retraite_ only once before, but it seemed to him to be a zealous and earnest place. Victor would loathe to be proven wrong after all these years.

But that couldn’t be. The doctors and nurses kept him updated frequently, sent him reports he couldn’t mostly understand.... they must be treating her accordingly, why wouldn’t they?

Victor felt afflicted to finally be so close to the truth. He _knew_ his grandmère’s disease hadn’t receded and that she didn’t remember who he was. But seeing it with his own eyes, that was something else entirely. That felt like something else entirely.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” a woman with a kind smile greeted him at the door. “We’ve been eagerly awaiting your visit. I hope you had a pleasant trip?” she asked with a very thick accent in English, for Yuuri’s sake.

“We did, thank you,” Yuuri answered, politely shaking her hand. “We were hoping to see Madame Nikiforova as soon as we were able. Has she been warned of her grandson’s visit?”

“We did… tell her, of course,” the woman’s smile faltered for a second. Victor saw on her white name tag her name was Adeline. She looked a bit too young to be working here. But then again, Victor didn’t know what the hell he was expecting.

Like the moment never had happened, she was back to business again. “Seeing her grandson again will most surely do her good. She’s been a unusually quiet for the past few weeks.”

“How so?” Victor said at last, drawing all eyes in the room at his presence.

“Well, Alice usually is, how can I put it… the life of the party,” Adeline looked pleased with her usage of English slang and motioned kindly for them to come in. “That is, when she’s feeling well enough to leave her quarters for the day. Most of the time, the activities we have here are a bit too tiring, perhaps a bit too exciting for her health, especially the nightly activities, you know. But when she does join us, oh, she’s a wonder.”

Victor smiled. That sounded like his grandmother.

“Can I see her now?”

“Of course, Mr. Nikiforov,” Adeline said, turning around to get them visitor tags from behind the counter. “Will your husband be joining you?”

“If that won’t be a problem.”

“Not a problem at all.”

“Adeline,” Victor hesitated, accepting the tags from her hand. “Please, you can be honest with me. What is her situation?”

Adeline didn’t smile this time.

“Perhaps... that is something you might want to assess for yourself, sir,” she looked away, biting her lip. “It’s hard to explain. But we’re doing what we can,” Adeline was quick to add.

“Of course,” Victor replied stoically.

The nurses led them to a spacious corridor, full of windows and colorful walls.

Adeline opened a door to her left, went inside the room for a few moments, then left.

“She’s ready.”

Was she? Victor wasn’t ready.

They went in, Victor first, Yuuri later. Adeline closed the door behind them.

There she was.

Alice.

She looked at Victor soulfully.

Or rather, _through_ Victor.

Her eyes landed on Yuuri and never left them again.

“You’re here,” she croaked in French, surprise written all over her face. “You came.”

“I’m here, grandmère,” Victor tried to reassure her, overcome with emotion himself.

“Damien.”

Alice said. She looked at Yuuri still.

The whole room stopped breathing, all at once.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Sorry for the change in the chapter count. Turns out giving birth to these new pages was a hard task already as it was and I just couldn't find the strength to finish this yet.
> 
> So, yeah. Alice is here. And she's a bit confused. Any theories why that might be? It's pretty obvious, I think haha
> 
> The end is coming soon! Thanks for hanging around so far <3


	3. La vie et l'amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fateful encounter. Dancing the night away in a floating house. Victor has an epiphany. And finally, the epilogue.

 

There she was, at last.

The fierce woman who had given Victor his first pair of skates. The very woman who had taught him English and French and sang him foreign lullabies.

The petite lady with the sparkling eyes. Victor’s grandmother.

Alice.

And she looked so _old._

“Damien,” she stretched out her left arm, swallowing hard around her words like it pained her to do so.

One more inch forward, and she would fall off her rocking chair. Possibly even off the bay window that was positioned right next to it and lit up the large blue room that were her dignified quarters.

But she didn’t move anymore. She stood still.

“Victor,” Yuuri called nervously, taken aback by her reaction.

Victor paid him no mind. He watched the woman cautiously, as if she was an animal that might charge at them. The notion was ridiculous, of course, but there was something unnerving about her trembling arm stretched out in their direction… something that made Victor’s blood recoil.

It looked too much an accusation.

 _Tu es coupable_ , Victor thought. _Guilty._

Yuuri tugged at his sleeve, calling his attention again. “Victor,” he whispered. “What do we do?”

Alice stared at them now like they were simple-minded helpers standing in her way. She still had much of her youth’s pride in her gaze, in the way she lifted her chin up, always aristocratic.

Victor realized then she was reaching. Not for Yuuri, not anymore, but for _something_.

He looked behind him and saw a wooden shelf suspended by the bedroom’s wall.

If Victor were a better person, the moment he turned around to inspect it, he would have seen there portraits of their family. Pictures of Irina, of Victor’s practices, of beautiful landscapes, even of Makkachin and their past dogs.

But Victor had forgotten that was what people did when they left others behind. They kept pictures, didn’t they? Victor himself had only started collecting them once he met Yuuri. The only pictures he kept were online, on his social media. Of course he hadn’t thought of taking any to grandmère, why would he? That was all he knew, then.

No wonder she had no recollection of him.

Instead, he found on the shelf a well-used yellow journal, with the side ears coming off the seams.

He realized Alice was gesturing for it when her index finger finally stood up, in an unmistakable plea.

“Irina, please.”

She said, simply, but staring right at Victor’s soul.

He stopped dead.

_No, grandma. Not her. Never her. Just me._

He didn’t realize he was falling. Not until Yuuri grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him back on his feet.

Yuuri didn’t say a word, just supported his body like it weighed him nothing. His husband reached into the shelf himself and took the journal in hand. Once he made sure Victor was standing on his own, he finally let go. He asked for permission with his eyes to go and just give it to her, since she was still so strangely distressed by the sight of the notebook.

Victor wasn’t so sure.

“It’s okay, Vitya. I want to help,” Yuuri said kindly.

It came to Victor how wonderful Yuuri had been to Makkachin in his final hours. He had something about him so reassuring, so trustworthy, unlike Victor… _Oh, please. Let him go. Grandmère will be all the better for it._

_She deserves better than me._

Yuuri paced the room quietly, stopping only at the foot of Alice’s chair, where he kneeled unceremoniously.

“Hello,” he said, not louder than a whisper. “I believe this is yours, isn’t it?”

He placed the journal carefully between her hands, closing them above it.

“My name is Yuuri. I am your grandson’s husband. It’s a pleasure to meet you, madam,” he smiled.

Alice looked at him confused, then down at her journal like it was a precious treasure. Right now, it was the only thing in the world that held the answers to this terrible nightmare she was living, of that Victor had no doubt.

She opened it and started browsing through the pages. Some of them contained drawings and doodles of all kinds; other parts looked like some sort of diary; and then some pages were scribbled furiously like it was the work of a five year old in the middle of a tantrum.

But then, she finally stopped at a page. There were eyes drawn there, many of them, on the left side of the page. On the right side, there was a portrait of a man.

The man had black, almond shaped eyes that hid behind huge frames. His disheveled black hair pointed to every direction and drew out the viewer’s attention, but the most remarkable feature in his face was undoubtedly his blinding, genuine smile.

Alice stared longingly at the picture for a few minutes.

She finally looked up at Yuuri, sorrowfully.

“No,” she declared, raising her voice for the first time. “You’re not him.”

Victor felt a rush of compassion run through him like he had never felt before in his life.

Grandmère was his flesh and blood, after all.

It was only natural she’d think Yuuri was the love of her life.

Only fitting.

 

* * *

 

 

_Twenty-five years ago_

“Irina, my darling,” Alice said with a flourish, “Mikhail cannot _possibly_ be the prince charming you make him up to be!”

“Mama, we’ve been through this,” Irina replied tiredly as she resumed her task of setting up the breakfast table. “Mikhail is a wonderful husband and father. I have nothing to complain.”

“But he’s a _Russian_ ,” Alice whispered, aghast.

“Well, so am I, if you haven’t noticed,” Irina chuckled, gesturing for the two of the to sit down. “And you’ve always liked them _exotic_ , haven’t you, Mama?”

Alice huffed with a glint of amusement. “That’s not my point,” she said pointing her finger conspiratorially.

“Viten’ka, please come sit down!” Irina screamed toward the silver blob that was her son’s hair running around the house with his skates on.

“Let him be, love,” Alice touched her hand fondly. “He’s having fun.”

“I still don’t know why you gave him that wretched thing… like he wasn’t doing it enough at the rink,” Irina mumbled.

“ _As I was saying,_ ” Alice interrupted, clearly having a fun time herself, “I think you should try to be a bit more realist when it comes to the idea of marriage. Just wait until you get to my age. You’re both still young, you have that glitter in your eye when you speak about each other. But that’s temporary, Irina. No marriage is perfect.”

“You’re just saying that because you weren’t happy in your own marriage to Papa,” Irina said defiantly.

“No, I’m not. You’ll realize that soon enough, _chérie_ . I have yet to see a successful, lasting marriage in this lifetime. Oh, my widow friends, when they talk about their late husbands, it’s always with that wistful tone I’d _never_ seen them address them when the fools were still around and kicking. It’s bullshit, if I may call it so. If a marriage is perfect, either party must be an idiot or dead.”   

“You sound particularly morbid today,” Irina noted, stirring her coffee with a small spoon. “What’s the matter, Mama?”

“Ah, don’t mind me. Nothing’s the matter. I’m just… tired, I suppose.”

“Is that all?”

“I also… seem to have misplaced my journal.”

“The yellow one?” Irina asked and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m sure we’ll find it before you leave. Was there something important in it?”

Alice looked down, suddenly interested in the shapes that were formed over her burned toast.

“Not really, no. Just stuff I’d like to remember. Well, I guess I can always draw them again.”

Irina was silent for a while as she buttered a piece of bread and put it on the toaster for Victor.

“Is this about the friend you always speak about?”

Alice sighed, then closed her eyes. “Which friend?”

“You know which one. The half-Asian painter from Paris.”

“Damien.”

“Yes, that one,” Irina said. “You know, Mama, I’ve always wondered if there was only friendship between the two of you... Before Papa.”

Alice smiled sadly. “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that question?”

And just like that, Victor came storming in through the door again and sat on his seat abruptly, demanding food. Irina stopped her inquiry, suddenly self-conscious about the subject.

“I’m just saying, there’s nothing stopping you from going to him now.”

“But there is. There is, my darling.” Alice said, her tone final but joyless. “You’ve forgotten what I’ve said already? I’d rather sit here with my wonderful memories instead. There’s no such thing as happiness in marriage.”

Irina stared at her, pitiful, then shook her head. They all resumed breakfast after that.

It was a lovely spring day, in Victor’s memory.

 

* * *

 

 

“Grandmère, do you remember me?” Victor asked tentatively, kneeling in front of her.

“Irina,” she said, touching the side of his face gently, “You cut your hair.”

“I’m not Irina… I’m her son.”

“Her son?” she frowned. “How come? Vitya is still a boy.”

“Yes, it’s me! I’m Vitya, grandma,” Victor raised his voice, startling Yuuri, who was now standing awkwardly next to the bed.

“Do you know this man?” Alice asked, a bit perturbed, turning her question to Yuuri.

Victor’s face fell again.

“Mada… Alice, this _is_ Vitya. Your grandson.”

“My grandson? Is he... _ours_?” Her eyes widened in response. “What is your name, boy?”

Victor stood up, disheartened. _Why I do insist on fooling myself over and over again?_

“This conversation is not going anywhere. She doesn’t seem to retain any kind of new information.”

Victor turned his back on them and stared at the wall, giving up all hope.

Yuuri took his place on the floor, instead. He took a deep breath, like he did every time he entered the rink for a presentation on the ice.

“Do you have any children, Alice?” he asked, softly.

She nodded. “A girl. Irina. So beautiful… silver hair, just like that one’s.”

“Where is she now?”

“She just left for groceries. She said she’ll be right back! I’m sure you’ll love meeting her. She’s my favorite.”

“Your favorite… child?” Yuuri hesitated.

“Of course. The other one was born dead.” Alice deadpanned, and the whole room went silent for a second time. 

Victor turned around so fast he almost knocked a lamp over.

He ran his fingers over his fringe, dreading where this was going. “What child was born dead, grandma?”

“My first child. Philippe. He had your eyes,” she smiled at Yuuri wistfully. “You never met him, of course. I had to bury him in Aunt Sophie’s garden before Papa found out. I never gained weight easily, you know. But then he gave me away to Alexei. I.. never got the chance to tell you. I suppose… it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Alice, I’m so sorry.” Yuuri said, visibly taken aback by her words.

“You _never_ would have married me anyway, would you?” She spat, also raising her voice. “For you, was always work, work, work, and the bloody _art_ . You never took me seriously, because I was just a girl to you, wasn’t I? Now _I’m_ the one who’s old, and _you_ …” her voice cracked, “you’re still not mine. Tell me, Damien, did you ever truly love me?”

“Yuuri, that’s enough,” Victor touched his shoulder firmly, voice cracking against his will. ‘“Let her rest.”

Yuuri got up, somewhat shaken by the exchange that had just happened, and they retreated to the other side of the room.

Alice looked confused for a second, like she still had something else to say, but couldn’t find her intended target in the general vicinity. A moment later, like magic, her features relaxed, and she was back to gently turning the pages in her journal, that she appeared to have found on her lap like a miracle.

“A _stillborn_ ,” Victor said to Yuuri, quietly. “Mother never told me there was a stillborn child.”

“Maybe your mother never knew.”

“Still, this is… Yuuri, I don’t know what to do. I came here looking for answers, but this is too much... I never should’ve come to France.”

Yuuri swallowed hard. “Don’t say that.”

 _It’s true,_ Victor’s mind completed. His grandmother’s life was way more complicated than he had imagined, and now they were just reminding her of her most painful memories. Definitely now what she needed right now.

“Irina.” They heard Alice say from her chair. “She’s never coming, is she?”

_This is new._

“No, grandmère,” Victor answered, cautiously.

“She was in an accident years ago. Her plane fell. Took her and Viten’ka’s father. They’re dead too.”

“Do you remember his name, Alice?”

“Mikhail,” her stare softened. “The sweetest Russian I have ever met. He used to bring Irina flowers, remember? You take after him a lot.”

“Me?” Victor said, surprised.

“Yes, you, Victor,” she said impatiently, “You were always a Mama’s boy, but there’s so much of him in you, I’m not sure you realize it sometimes.”

“But I do realize it, grandma, I do,” Victor rushed towards her again and took her hand. “Do you remember me now?”

“How could I possibly forget my Viten’ka?” she smiled widely. “Tell me, how’s your training? Are you in seniors yet?”

“I am… actually retired,” Victor said awkwardly.

“What? So young? What a pity!”

She looked thrown off for a few seconds, but then changed the subject.

“And Antoine, how is he?”

“He’s doing fine. I just spoke to him. He says he misses you and will come visit you soon.”

“Oh, wonderful! He was always such a good boy, such a good boy! Did you marry him, Victor?”

“No,” Victor arched his eyebrow at her. “I married someone else. Someone better.”

“Who?” Alice asked curiously.

“Yuuri,” Victor gestured to him with a genuine smile.

“Is this your husband?” Alice sized Yuuri up with her eyes like she was seeing him for the very first time.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, madam,” Yuuri said, a bit confused, but honest all the same.

“So handsome,” she noticed, dreamily. “He reminds me of someone…  I just can’t remember who. Good taste, Victor.”

“Grandma, I need to talk to you about something important,” Victor interrupted, trying to get to the point as quickly as possible, as she appeared to be sane at the moment.

“Of course, what is it?”

The words got out of him like he was being strangled. “Do you forgive me?”  

“What for?”

“For not visiting you sooner.”

“But I just saw you yesterday,” she said, puzzled.

“No, grandma, you didn’t,” he corrected her, feeling actual pain in his chest as he said it, “I haven’t come in years.”

“Well, then I guess there’s nothing to forgive! I’m not sure what the doctors told you, but they say I don’t remember a lot of things. Which is probably why I don’t remember your being absent. I think it’s for the best,” she confessed, lowering her voice, “there are many things I’d like to forget, anyway. I’m glad you’re here now. Even though I might forget it in the next minute.”

“See? I told you, Victor,” Yuuri chimed in, not above a whisper. “She doesn’t resent you.”

“Would you mind if I stood here for a while now, then? With you?”

“Well, if you’d like, I’m sure you could. We have salsa tonight. Or is it tomorrow? I’m never sure. It’s amazing! You should take your husband.”

“I’m sure we’ll love it.”

“Yeah, I’m actually quite good at the salsa,” Yuuri joked, trying the ease up the mood in the room.

Alice laughed, and Victor let out another pained laugh in relief. “That’s admirable, young man! But wait… who are you again?”

Victor didn’t mind being patient.

He didn’t mind it at all.

 

* * *

 

 

“You understand she doesn’t have much longer, Mr. Nikiforov,” Adeline said to him later that night, sincerely, while the elderly couples danced. Yuuri whisked Alice’s wheelchair around the room in the rhythm, and she seemed to be having the time of her life. “She seems a lot healthier than many other patients in her condition, but... there’s the Alzheimer’s, of course. It’s very advanced, and it won’t get any better from here. The doctors say she might have days, a week, perhaps. We promise you that she’s being well taken care of, but I need to warn you to be ready.”

“Adeline,” Victor called out her name, gravely. “I understand. I knew this long before arriving, but that doesn’t make it any easier... especially after seeing her so lively. It can’t be easy on you, either. I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for her, for my grandmère. ”

The woman smiled, then shook her head. “It’s our pleasure, sir. Alice is very loved.” Adeline smiled in her direction. She took her leave politely when she noticed another patient struggling with his cane while he attempted to dance.

Yuuri came by with Alice and her wheelchair, pink-faced from all the exercise.

“Should I be concerned you’ll be leaving me for my grandmother?” Victor teased, sparing him from the hard conversation that just transpired between him and the nurse.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri played coy, “She’s a much better dancer than you are.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. But she insisted on dancing with _you_ instead, so I brought her here.” Yuuri joked, but his tone was earnest. He knew how much this moment meant to Victor. How much he yearned for his grandmother’s approval and her love.

And how glad he was that he still had it.

Victor took her handle and they danced the night away. That, or until 10PM, that was the time that their curfew bell rang.

In the end, they did stay a couple more days in Marseille.

Most of the time, Alice really didn’t know who he was (or how old he was), but Victor didn’t let that get to him. He was here for her, not for himself.

Yuuri gave them space. He announced he was going out for a walk, and Victor and Alice were able to discuss the serious things the following night. That was also the last time she was properly herself around him.

“Vitya, did you ever find it?” Alice asked curiously, as they said outside under the starry night.

“Did I find what, grandmère?” Victor got used to repeating her questions back at her, so she wouldn’t forget what she was meaning to say.

“Your new dream,” she completed, then stared out at a point the distance. “You said once to me skating was your dream. Did you find a new one?”

“You know, grandma... I was wrong.” Victor admitted, surprised that she still remembered their conversation. “My dream never was to skate. I just wanted to make the people I loved smile, and that was my skating did to Mama. I guess then my dream never did change. Mama isn’t here anymore, but Yuuri is. Yuuri is my dream. So yes, you can say I found it.”

“Yuuri is your husband,” Alice tested, and Victor nodded. “The boy who was here. The one who looked like my Damien.”

“Yes.”

“Will you bury me next to him? When I’m gone? I don’t want to be sent back to Russia,” she said, nonchalantly, like that didn’t make Victor’s heart beat faster than an erratic drum. “I hope you understand.”

“I understand. You never really did belong to Russia. France is your home. I’ll make sure you stay,” he struggled to keep his voice even.

“In that sense, you and I are quite the same, Vitya,” she mused. “You never really fit anywhere either, did you, boy? But France, to me, is where my heart is. That is enough to feel like home.”

“Home is where the heart is. You’re the one who taught me that, you know. And you’re right, Russia isn’t really my home, not where it counts. You take Yuuri out of it, and it’s just a _place._ My home is with him. So of course I’ll let you be where your heart desires.”

Alice nodded, satisfied. She laid her tiny hand over his and smiled.

“I’m happy, Vitya,” she said, tears starting to gather behind her milky eyes. “You did better than me. You found your love and were wise enough to keep it. You’re my biggest pride in this life. Because of you, I feel like my work here is finally done.”

Victor didn’t know what to say.

So he let her words linger around them, words that sounded a lot like closure.

Alice still had a pensive smile on her face when she turned around again in his direction, looking surprised to see him sitting next to her.

_It’s happening. She already forgot we ever had this conversation._

“Did you ever find it, Vitya?” she asked again, just like she did before. Victor sighed, but he wasn’t aggravated by it. Not really.

He already knew what she meant exactly. He just wished… that she had found the same.

“My new dream, grandma? Yes, I did.”

“Good,” she said. “Very good.”

His next words also sounded a lot like closure.

“I found my new dream and I’m very happy. I love you, grandmère. Thank you for everything.”

She smiled, unknowing.

“ _Je t’aime aussi, mon garçon.”_

  


* * *

 

 

The train ride back to Paris was filled with thoughtful silence, not too differed from the one that led them to Marseille. Victor wasn’t anxious anymore, though he had a lot to digest. But Yuuri just couldn’t handle silence anymore. Victor recognized his tone as the _“I need to assess your feelings and know if you’re okay”_ tone, the one they had with each other for situations like this, thanks to their Game.

“They said they’d call,” Yuuri blurted out, suddenly.

Victor stopped tracing patterns on the humid window. “They did,” he said. “I trust they’ll warn us… if we need to return quickly.”

Yuuri nodded. He took a bite out of his protein bar, still on his athlete’s diet amidst all this stress. “Are you in a rush?”, Yuuri said, a bit unexpectedly.

“Why do you ask?”

“We could stay in France for a while longer.”

“What about your training?” Victor inquired with a frown.

“I’m sure we could spare another week… that is, if my coach allows,” Yuuri forced a smile.

Victor didn’t relent. “But why do you want to stay, _solnyshko_?”

Yuuri sighed, sounding exhausted.

“Vitya, I know you. You’re not ready to leave. It’s okay, we can be on stand-by in case she needs you. This way we won’t be that far off too soon.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Yuuri, but we can’t put our entire lives on hold indefinitely. You _know_ anything could happen at any minute, it doesn’t matter where we are. We can’t just stay here, waiting for the worse to happen.”

“Not even a couple more days?” Yuuri tried. “It’ll make you feel better, love. It’ll make _me_ feel better. I’m tired of seeing you like this. How long has it been since I’d last seen you laugh? Please, Vitya. Let’s stay.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” Yuuri’s face lightened up.

“Really. But you know, Yuuri, I wouldn’t worry that much if I were you,” Victor confessed. “I got so much more than I bargained for by coming here, and for that I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“For what?”

“I told her I’m happy, _solnyshko._ And I really am. She knew that, in the end.”

Yuuri smiled, then nodded to himself. He took Victor’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.

They still had a lot to discuss. But for now, this sufficed.

 

* * *

 

 

_Rewind._

This was how Victor envisioned their first trip to Paris would go.

In Victor’s vision, Yuuri wore gold.

The twilight gleamed on his skin like droplets of sunshine, and he looked at Victor like he hung the moon on the night sky. Below the street level, and down the staircases to the riverbank, they took a stroll on Seine, finding solace away from the crowds once again.

Victor didn’t need to know what Yuuri was thinking, and for the first time that didn’t bother him. He was living the dream: Yuuri’s Paris on full, live and technicolor.

It wasn’t anything fancy. Victor couldn’t imagine anything better: locking hands and just taking a stroll down the river itself, spying on the colorful houseboats parked there and wondering if life was always supposed to feel like this.

They went under a stone bridge, and Yuuri stopped on his tracks, turning around to look at him. “Remember your idea of owning a tourist bus?”

Victor laughed, not expecting the randomness of that comment. “That was Cartagena, wasn’t it?”

“I was thinking maybe a houseboat would be a better idea.”

“How so?”

“More private,” Yuuri declared with a playful wink. “Also, we could sail around Europe, just the two of us, taking our home with us wherever we go. Can you sail?”

“You know I can’t,” Victor said.

“Well, we could learn,” Yuuri shrugged. “Look, that one’s a good candidate.”

Yuuri stepped foot on the deck and walked around a houseboat that looked like it came straight from a vintage movie, the perfect steam machine.

The floating house looked like a self-propelled vessel that was able to maneuver on its own. There were many small circular windows around its length, and its insides looked cozy and warm, if a bit rustic. A red flag flew proudly in the wind.

“It looks like a pirate ship,” Victor commented, holding Yuuri’s waist from behind.

“My point precisely,” Yuuri smirked.

“When are you planning to move?”

“Right now, if you’re fine with stealing it.”

“ _Stealing_ it?” Victor pretended to look shocked. “Who are you and what have you done to my sweet Yuuri?”

“I’m just saying, you should think about it,” Yuuri joked, “We should definitely be considering our choices, especially once I…”

Yuuri was interrupted by the sound of a man suddenly emerging from the boat’s engine, looking surprised to see them standing there. “Tourists?”, he said with a strong French accent.

“Yes,” Victor answered.

“You came with reservation for the night, yes?”

“We did,” Yuuri said. “On the name of Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

Victor blinked rapidly a couple times. “What?”

“Surprise?” Yuuri said with a crooked smile. “This is to make up for the hotel reservation I lost when we first arrived. It’s a nice place, isn’t it? And we don’t have to steer it or anything, it’ll just float by! I thought you’d find it interesting, at least.”

“Yuuri, that’s wonderful!” Victor kissed his cheek with a loud smack. “I love it. I never did anything like this before.”

“Well, looks like you are now,” Yuuri extended his arm and was lifted by their temporary landlord into the boat, then did the same to Victor.

Victor stared into his eyes, puzzled, before letting himself be pulled up.

“I’ve been planning this for the past few days,” Yuuri admitted once they were both on board. “I hope you enjoy it, because it’s all for you.”

Every time he thought he couldn’t love this man any more, he went there and did something like that.

Love was too small a word to compare to what he felt.

Later, when their landlord had explained it all and they were left by themselves, the moon was already high in the sky. They hung out by the porch outside, after exploring their room for the night.

On the real world beyond the houseboat, the Eiffel Tower gleamed in the distance. Many couples sat down by the grass nearby and had picnics, or took a stroll by the riverbanks, young and old alike.

“We should take a picture,” Victor suggested, wanting to keep this memory forever in his mind.

Yuuri didn’t complain anymore at his paramount obsession with social media. “It’s kinda our thing at this point, isn’t it?” he said, raising his own phone and taking their selfie on that lovely landscape.

“You’re gonna post it yourself?” Victor made a disbelieving face at him.

“Why not?” Yuuri challenged. “I post things.”

“Okay,” Victor let him do his thing. Yuuri picked the filter, the titles, the hashtags, all without asking for help. Or so Victor had thought.

Victor unlocked his own phone and was the first to like it.

 

 **katsukiyuuri |** I love you.

 **_♥_ ** **1 likes**

_posted 1min ago_

 

Yuuri had posted the picture the exact same way it was taken. No filters or locations were necessary. Just a simple statement, perhaps the most important one of Victor’s life.

“You didn’t tag me in it,” Victor said, dumbly, and Yuuri didn’t have any time to laugh before his face was cupped by Victor’s hands and his mouth was taken in a bruising kiss.

It felt like they hadn’t kissed in years. A millennia. In fact, it couldn’t have been more than a day or two.

Victor was hungry, starving, just like he always was whenever they kissed. He wondered if Yuuri realized that, if he found it overbearing.

But Yuuri, _Yuuri_ always kissed him just right, just like that, like he didn’t mind or didn’t care, like he didn’t understand that was enough to make Victor whimper with pleasure and be forced to pull away.

Like he felt just the same.

Yuuri followed his mouth blindly once Victor retreated, still holding his husband’s face gently like he could break at any moment.

They kissed again, once, twice, and Yuuri now was the one stop them, putting a finger over their mouths.

“You know... after my injury, I thought things would never be the same,” Yuuri trailed off, looking down. Victor waited for him to continue.

“I thought we wouldn’t be able to do many things again. Like dancing. Thank god I was proven wrong. Well, the new world record was nice too,” Yuuri smiled. “But I feel like I must ask now, since the timing is right: will you dance with me, Victor?”

“Without music?” Victor said, astonished.

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“But I do have music,” Yuuri teased, then pressed play on his phone. Suddenly the speakers in their houseboat came to life with a gorgeous, romantic [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eo4SCRzBRzk) in French.

He pulled Victor close and grabbed his waist, and they slowly started swaying to the music.

Yuuri rested his head on Victor’s shoulder, relaxed.

Victor whispered on his ear, “I love you, too.”

Yuuri hummed sweetly, with his eyes closed.

“It’s true, Yuuri. I love you more than anything.”

“More than I love you?”

“Yes.”

“Not possible.”

_I knew you’d say that._

Yuuri pulled him back into a kiss, a gentler one this time, holding the back of Victor’s head. He directed them toward the wooden door, without breaking their embrace.

All of a sudden, they were in bed, still swaying softly with the tide, though they weren’t dancing anymore. Not like that.

Victor wasn’t sure what kind of sex they had, just that their bodies seemed to mold together and he didn’t want it to ever stop.

Yuuri was intimate with sides of Victor he wasn’t even aware existed himself.

When Victor was a child, recently orphaned, he couldn’t have ever imagined that someone else could feel that way, so perfectly made for his own.

While they laid down on that large, snug bed that took over the nautical themed room, Victor still couldn’t help but ponder about the things that kept him awake at night.

He trailed devoted kisses down Yuuri’s jaw, and said, “You frighten me sometimes, you know.”

Yuuri circled his arms around Victor’s middle, positioning himself more steadily above him. “How so?”

“How much I’d do for you. It isn’t right.”

Yuuri stopped brushing Victor’s hair out of his eyes and eyed him carefully. “Silly,” he kissed the top of Victor’s nose.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” Yuuri whispered. “I’m just saying, stop apologizing. You’re mine to have, aren’t you?”

“Always,” Victor assured.

“And I’m yours. So do whatever you want to me. Or _because_ of me. It’s all fine, Victor. It really is. You would never make me angry, not enough to make me want to leave. Do you understand that? Nothing you ever do would make me stop wanting you.”

Yuuri continued, unfazed.

“You just gotta promise me one thing. It’s the one thing that would make me lose my mind if you ever dared. So, just…. don’t go without me.”

“Go where?”

Yuuri swallowed, then put his arms around Victor’s neck. “Just don’t, okay?”

He tightened his hold around his husband, almost painfully.

Victor, somehow, understood what he meant exactly.

“Where you go, I go.”

It was hardly difficult. He had promised his grandmother a fate that was much the same, to her own beloved. A fate he would be sealing soon.

Yuuri loosened his grip a little bit, allowing Victor to lean up and kiss him again.

They were quiet for a while after now, the sound of their kisses filling the air alongside the music that was still coming softly from the deck. The air was chilly where it touched their bare bodies, so they should probably cover up.

But Victor had something on his mind.

“Do you believe in destiny, Yuuri?”

Yuuri groaned.

“Again with the difficult questions…” Yuuri teased, smiling a little to himself.

“It’s almost ironic,” Victor trailed off, distantly. “There’s a little bit of you in everyone I have ever loved.”

He felt Yuuri’s body freeze, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the cold.

“Okay. So now you believe I’m that Damien painter reborn?” Yuuri said, anxious. “I know what your grandmother was thinking, but you too?”

Victor was utterly confused. “No, Yuuri, that’s not what I…”

“Why can’t I just be me?” Yuuri interrupted him, closing his eyes. “Not an instrument of fate who has your mother’s eyes, your grandmother’s past, your ex’s face? Is this what I am to you now, a... _relic_ to be cherished, that holds ties to your history and you want to protect? I have nothing to do with all of this, Victor, I’m just who I’ve always been.”

“Wait, you don’t understand.” Victor brushed the side of his face with his fingers. “Yes, I can connect you to everyone I’ve ever loved, but you’re the only one who is wholly _Yuuri_. The sum of everything I’ve known is only perfect when it adds up to _you_. Without Yuuri, there’s no story. There’s no resolution, my darling. No happy ending.”

Yuuri considered his words thoughtfully.

“Don’t you see? I love you because I’ve been searching for you my whole life.”

“Then it’s the same for me,” Yuuri decided, putting Victor’s hand over his bare chest. “The only difference is, I just knew it was you all along. There was no one to replace. No one could even compare, because to me, there was only _you._ ”

“Then why are we fighting over this?”

“We’re not fighting over this,” Yuuri replied, offended.

They laughed, awkwardly. “We _might_ be fighting over this,” Yuuri corrected. “Well, it’s been a while.”

“Do you remember the GPS discourse in Santorini?” Victor pondered, curious.

“If I remember? I walked _out of the car_ and nearly got kidnapped in our honeymoon.”

“Oh, please, don’t be so dramatic. It was just Pavlos, and he turned out be our friend.”

“But what if he hadn’t?”

“Well, do _you_ remember when you disappeared on me in _Colombia_ , of all places, and tried to throw your wedding ring out in the ocean?”

“That’s because I thought you were running away with Antoine! And I _said_ I was sorry.”

“Of course, and that made it all better,” Victor continued their ruse.

“Wait, you’re still angry?” Yuuri went pale. “Vitya, that was the biggest mistake I ever…”

Victor smiled wickedly, glad to have gotten a reaction out of him. He kissed Yuuri’s temple, showing him he was forgiven. “That doesn’t mean I can’t tease you about it, _solnyshko_. I almost had a heart attack that day.”

Yuuri breathed slowly, fiercely relieved, settling again on Victor’s chest.

“I still wanna meet him, you know.”

“You wanna meet Antoine?” Victor raised his eyebrow. “I can assure you that you won’t be impressed.”

“But still, the first time I saw him the circumstances weren’t exactly ideal. I was rude. But anyway, you told me he wasn’t angry with me.”

“He wasn’t, he admires you,” Victor confirmed. “I guess that can be arranged, if you really want to. He lives nearby with his husband, Pierre.”

“I’d forgotten they were married already,” Yuuri contemplated. “At least he’s happier now after that nasty divorce. That’s a good thing.”

“It is,” Victor agreed. “He deserves to be happy, despite of everything he did. I’ve texted him earlier about grandmère. He promised to come by in the next few days.”

Yuuri nodded, then smiled.

“We’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t we?”

_Oh, that we have, solnyshko._

“Add five world championships each to the soup, and _voilà_ , you got Yuuri and Victor, athlete couple extraordinaire.”

“Who made love in twenty seven countries and counting.”

“Yuuri!” Victor shrieked, mortified. “I want that written on our epitaph.”

“Hopefully we’ll get to the hundredth mark till then.”

They laughed again, heartily this time.

“About those world championships, Vitya,” Yuuri said, after some time, “Can I cross my heart and tell you something you can’t judge?”

Victor nodded, solemnly.

“I think I can say I’ve finally done my best.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m retiring after this season, love. It’s time. I’m almost thirty myself and I can feel it in my bones that it’s time to stop. I didn’t get five Grand Prix medals, but I got five Worlds, just like you did. Is that enough for you, coach?” Yuuri teased, looking somehow afraid of his answer.

“It was enough when you won that first silver medal, Yuuri,” he whispered, truthful. Like it could have been any different.

They let the weight of Yuuri’s decision linger over them over a while.

“Now, can _I_ tell you something you can’t judge?” Victor said, also summoning their Game.

“Sure, Vitya.”

“I want to move back to Hasetsu. As a home base, I mean. After we’re done. It doesn’t have to be right now… just something to think about. When we’re ready.”

“Sometimes I have a feeling you miss it more than I do.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Okay. We’ll go to Japan. But we’ll keep travelling, won’t we?”

“Always.”

“Then it’s done,” Yuuri said, like stamping an invisible contract with his thumb. “Anything else you’d like to say while we’re under oath?”

“Actually, I do,” Victor cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you. Profusely. You were there for Makkachin and for grandmère when I couldn’t... I’m not sure you fully comprehend how much that meant to me. So thank you, Yuuri.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Yuuri said. “You know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He parroted Victor’s words right back at him.

“She doesn’t have much longer, Yuuri.”

Yuuri bit his lip. “I know, love.”

“What do we do?”

“We stay. We stay by her side until she’s gone and then we take her home.”

Victor nodded. Yuuri was right. They should stay in France a while longer. There were moments in life you couldn’t just run away from the things that hurt you anymore. You had to stay and face them. And Victor wouldn’t have to be alone for this.

Victor could ask for help, and receive it. Victor had people he could count on, and when he realized it, the list only grew.

“I think I might have had an epiphany over the course of the past month, Yuuri,” Victor confessed. “I’m calling it the Makkachin Epiphany.”

“What’s it about?”

“Remember in Santorini, when I told you I didn’t want to have kids because I was afraid I wouldn’t love them the way I was supposed to?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’ve finally learned there are different ways to love a person.”

“What about when you taught me about Eros and Agape?,” Yuuri asked, hesitatingly testing the waters.

“I didn’t understand it then, not really. It was an act.”

“Okay. But why now?”

“I realized, Yuuri, that my home is wherever I’m with you. No one could ever come between that. They could only _add_ to it and make it stronger. So, of course, whenever you’re ready, I just feel like you should know that’s a route we could go down too.”

“Vitya…” Yuuri teared up, just a small bit, then immediately cleaned it up with the back of his palm. “That’s wonderful.”

“I know, deep down, you’ve always wanted to be a father.”

“Oh my god, Vitya. I wasn’t expecting this out of this conversation, I… Of course, just when we feel ready. Not now. Someday.”

“Someday,” Victor agreed. “After I finish my book.”

Yuuri poked him, impatient. “You’re making such a big mystery out of this book. You’ve been writing it for _years_ , but you hardly mention it _._ When are you gonna tell me what’s it about?”

“Soon, baby. Very soon.”

They kept on talking for a while, about everything and nothing at the same time. For the first time since Makkachin had passed, Victor felt truly in touch with himself and his feelings.

He had a husband who loved him. That much was true. His family didn’t resent him. He made a promise to be more present, more caring, even when there wasn’t much he could do for now. He couldn’t save everyone, but he understood that wasn’t his fault. He now saw a future ahead of him, apart from figure skating.

For the first time in forever, Victor felt satisfied with what he’s got. As long as he made Yuuri smile, he would be happy. That would always be enough.

Yuuri had long gone to sleep when Victor’s phone buzzed, which surprised him. He hadn’t gotten a message in weeks. He told his friends not to contact him about Makkachin, then not to bother him during their trip. If they wanted to reach him and it was urgent, they should call Yuuri instead.

He realized then how awfully selfish that must have sounded.

There _were_ people who loved him, not just Yuuri. Yakov, Yurio, everyone in the rink, his fans, and so many other people.They were probably worried about him.

They would help him, if he asked.

On his notifications’ bar, he saw three messages from Chris. The first of them was a print taken from his phone (with 3% left of battery) with his and Yuuri’s selfie from earlier at the houseboat’s deck.

 

**Chris**

hey man

glad to see you smiling again :)

 

Victor wondered what he had looked like to his friends over the the past weeks. It mustn't have been anything good. He needed to correct this. He had to start making good on his promise to himself.

 

**Victor**

thanks, _chéri_

i’m a lot better now

you and matsumi in geneva?

 

**Chris**

just leaving to spend the weekend in italy

why do you ask?

 

**Victor**

think you could make it to paris instead?

 

**Chris**

you know i’m always down to paris with you, my darling

is it a _fun_ invitation or a serious one?

 

**Victor**

it’s a serious invitation, this time

is that a problem?

 

**Chris**

not at all

we’ll save the fun for another time ;)

see you there

 

**Victor**

i’ll explain it soon

 

He did it. Chris would come. But Victor knew he needed all the help he could get for this.

He looked down at Yuuri and wondered, _who would he call_?

That much was obvious.

Victor spent the entire night texting.

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, a few days later, they all had come.

Chris and Matsumi, Yakov and Lilia, Yuri and Otabek, Phichit and many other skaters who were nearby. Antoine had just come down from Marseille and informed them it was almost time, and they could all go, too. Victor’s friends had all come to support him during this challenging moment.

All of that because he had merely asked.

He gathered all of his friends together and explained to them what had been going on the past few weeks, with the help of his husband.

His grandmother had passed away peacefully in her sleep.

They didn’t just come for the funeral, they came to be with Victor. Yuuri said he couldn’t be prouder, once Victor told him what he’s done.

And when he and Antoine were finally properly introduced, Victor had never seen a more civil conversation in his life. It was strange, seeing them side by side, but both men understood this wasn’t neither the time nor place to discuss the past.

“We’ll move grandfather to where she is,” Antoine offered, after being briefed on Alice’s last wishes by the doctors in Marseille. “It’s what he would have wanted. He was never married, so his ashes are kept in the family’s vault.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, sincerely. “We are making the arrangements on our side. They’re still contacting the lawyers over the opening of her will. Victor will you need you to sign some papers, since your name will be in it. I’m sorry to disturb you and your husband for a little longer, but I’m taking over the bureaucratic parts for him, so he can properly mourn.”

Victor listened to all of this from afar, while sitting down between Lilia and Yakov, who kept his hand over Victor’s shoulder through the entire time he had arrived in France.

“You did the right thing, boy,” Yakov had said, a day ago, before embracing him forcefully. “Alice was a good woman. Many years we watched over you together. She will be missed.”

But Victor didn’t want condolences right now. He just wanted _normal._

He dismissed himself politely from them, and walked over where Yuri and Phichit were standing with the other skaters in the nursing home’s garden. Just leave it to Yura to be improper, loud and obnoxious, even during a funeral.

But even Yuri didn’t seem to be in the mood for shenanigans at the moment.

“I never got the chance to say I’m sorry about Makkachin, Victor,” Yuri said, looking down sheepishly at the grass. “He was on my watch when it happened. When I think about how I’d feel had it been Potya, I just can’t… I’m sorry, old man. There’s a lot on your plate right now.”

“Yura, you’re fine. Makkachin wasn’t your fault at all. It was his time, just as it was my grandmother’s. I’m just happy you’re here right now. Please, just act normal.”

Victor then turned around and raised his voice, “Everyone, please, just be normal around me. You don’t need to walk on your tiptoes, that wasn’t why I called you. This is a celebration. A celebration of my grandmother’s life and love. Thank you all for coming. You don’t know how much it means that you’re all here with me.”

Phichit raised his glass of water. “A celebration to being alive!" he toasted. "And the friends we make along the way."

Victor smiled. At least Phichit got the spirit. He hugged his husband’s best friend tightly, a person who had always had Victor’s back, even when he didn’t deserve it.

“Did I ever actually thank you for saving my marriage?” Victor asked earnestly, referring to the time in Cartagena when Phichit talked Yuuri out of a divorce due to a terrible misunderstanding. “Thank you, Phichit. You’re the best.”

“Anytime. Actually, no. Don’t fucking do that to me ever again.”

Victor laughed, hugging him even tighter. _How lucky am I to have so many wonderfully unique people in my life._

He looked over at Yuuri, who was engrossed in conversation with Adeline and Chris, the latter acting as a translator between the former two.

This wasn’t a somber ceremony, not at all. His grandmother had already lived a rather forlorn life. Victor refused to make her passing a melancholic one, as she desperately had dreaded during her life, even wrote in down in her will.

_Regarde les étoiles, et je serai là._

Look at the stars, and I’ll be there.

Victor looked up, and they shone particularly brightly tonight. He’d been looking up to something in the sky for as long as he could remember, unsure of the reason why.

Most people did. Staring up at the unknown and looking for answers to one’s prayers were a side effect of being alive. Yuuri and his family in Japan even had a ritual to honor the acts of the stars.

Maybe grandmother was free now. Maybe she was up there, too. Maybe the celestial magpies would finally guide her to be with the one that she loved. Maybe the option of believing was all each and everyone of us really had.

Victor reflected, then, on the constellation of people that orbited around him. Yuuri. His family and friends. His parents and grandparents, from a place beyond. And even the people who were yet to come. There was no such thing as being alone on this world.

And even though it wasn’t Tanabata yet, Victor decided to make a wish.

Wherever Alice was, Victor felt like she would be proud.

  


* * *

 

 

_Epilogue_

 

  
“And that’s what I learned from my _Life and Love On The Road_ ,” Victor finished his speech to a crowd of thousands. The room thundered with applause.

“My husband and our daughter are in the audience,” he continued, walking toward the edge of the stage. Suddenly, the image of Yuuri and little Alya popped up on the screen next to him. Alice was waving enthusiastically on Yuuri’s lap, who was fighting back tears. “This work wouldn’t have been possible without them. Say hi, sweetie.”

The five-year old brunette yelled “Hi, Papa!”, but no sound came out of her lips on the live stream’s camera. Victor laughed, knowing she was probably making everyone deaf in her vicinity, and he waved back on their general direction.

“Alice has been a successful experiment on this life of ours on the road,” Victor winked, and the audience lost their minds. They were figure skating fans, travel writers, the international media, all important people from every field his promoted book was associated with. “So far, she’s been speaking Japanese, Russian, English and a little bit of French. She says she doesn’t have a preference to which home she likes best, but we all know she’s a grandma’s girl.”

Hiroko, who was sitting next to Yuuri, hid her face behind her hands, giggling uncontrollably and shaking her head.  

“We feel like travelling is a big part of who we are, what defines us as a family. After all, our family is scattered all over the world. So, somehow, the entire world is also our home. When I told Yuuri I wanted to tell our story through social media posts that went viral of us over the past decade, he was… unbelieving, at first.” Yuuri shot him a look from the crowd. “But then he quickly realized this was the best media that could convey our journey together to a larger audience. I became his coach through a YouTube video. Our entire relationship, even our wedding reception, has been documented online. And I feel like that is a story that should be shared. A story of travelling back and forth with the one that you love, while facing the hardships of a committed relationship and a dedicated career in sport. And how love can prevail through it all, even redefine who you are, if you’re wise enough to keep holding on to it. I hope it inspires all of you to do to the same.”

The room clapped again, giving Victor not his first, but perhaps his most important standing ovation of all.

His book was an unexpected success, and has already been translated to seven languages. Victor couldn’t believe so many people wanted to read about their lives “on the road”, as he called it.

A story that started with a boy in Japan with a dream too large to bear alone, who met a Russian boy with one too many heartbreaks to carry on his own.

Somehow, on this big, wide world, they had found each other.

Victor couldn’t wait to run to Yuuri, his life, love, and home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really know what being in labor’s like, but if it feels anything like birthing this chapter, then I don’t want anything to do with it at all in my life. I’m fine just being Alya’s godmother.
> 
> This is it, guys.
> 
> Thank you to all the usual faces (and the new ones, too) who have subscribed and supported this series throughout this year of writing. This series means so much to me, and it' hard to finally let it go and stopping following these two in their adventures around the world.
> 
> I'm not entirely satisfied with how this last story came out, but it's like Lilia Baranovskaya once said: "Be proud of your work of art until the very end."
> 
> I've had a hard time these past few weeks for many personal reasons, hence why I didn't update sooner. So, if you could leave me a kudo or a comment telling me what you enjoyed about this verse and if these stories touched you somehow, it would make me so, so happy. 
> 
> I have a next project already planned out, and you can hear all about it in my tumblr and twitter (that will be linked below in the end notes). If you have any questions regarding the future of any character this series, just hit me up! There's a lot that hasn't made the final cut.
> 
> Again, thank you for everything. Keep dreaming and keep traveling <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this series! You can find me on twitter and tumblr for more news on upcoming projects. See on soon!


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